‘Just imagine that you’re in a narrow kind-of-tent with Altaïr. There’s a sandstorm outside and it’s your shelter. Desert storm is powerful and hot but not as your desire to each other. You’re burning because of Altaïr is slowly exploring your body just like he wants to make you crazy: With his one finger missed hand fingering you, licking your chest and teasing breaths while pulling your sandy hair… Slow but hard and deep. I bet your screams would even suppress the storm’s sough.’